Halam'shivanas
by Dreamlover1102
Summary: His name had not always been Abelas. There was a time when his name had been something else. His life had been something different. (Spoilers for Inquisition. Do not read if you have not finished the game)
1. Suledin

**A/N: My attempt at writing a backstory for Abelas. Enjoy. **

**Disclaimer: We all know I don't own Dragon Age. Must you make me say it?**

**Collection one: Suledin **

**…...**

Each rasping wheeze pierced the boy's ears. His heart clenched tightly in his chest at the sound. His mother's sobs were full of sorrow and heartbreak but he refused to cry.

It couldn't be real.

He closed his eyes, trying to will away this moment. He tried to imagine something, anything, to replace the sight of the man lying on the bed. His small fists balled at his side as another bout of coughing tore from the man's throat. The noise brought tears that stung his eyes and forced him to swallow past the lump in his throat. His shoulders slumped in misery.

His papae was dying and there was nothing he could do.

The healers had already come and gone. They tried everything from tonics and potions to spirit healing but there was nothing to done. They had shook their head sadly and told his mother that his father had only a short time and then he'd be gone.

"Samahl...my boy. Co..Come…" His father's gravelly voice called from the bed. Just those few words had taken a toll on his father. Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead and his breathing rattled his chest.

Samahl stood and shuffled towards the bed. As he got closer, he could see how pale and grey his father's skin looked. His veins were prominent against his drawn countenance. His eyes, which had been the color of honey, were now glazed and smokey. His lips were bloodless and cracked.

He didn't understand. Just this morning his father had been healthy. Laughing and swinging him around as they danced and cleaned the kitchens. Now his father was laying in a bed as his life slowly slipped away.

Samahl reached the bed and took his father's hand. His skin was hot to the touch and clammy. "Papae?" he asked, eyes filling with tears.

"You...You must…" said his father before another cough racked through him. Blood splattered over his shirt and Samahl cried out, clutching at his father's hand.

"Don't speak, papae. Please," he sobbed. His mother's crying increased as she clutched at his father's shirt.

His father took a shaky breath. "You...must be...brave," his father whispered. Samahl moved closer in order to hear him as he continued, "Never...never falter. Always...endure. Promise…"

Samahl nodded, tears falling freely down his face. "I promise," he vowed.

His father attempted to squeeze his hand but his words had robbed him of his remaining strength. With one last shuddering breath his father's eyes closed and Samahl knew that he was gone. He sat there for what felt like hours as his mother bawled against his father's chest. He stared at the man's face, now peaceful and still, and tried to comprehend this moment.

Try though as he might, he just didn't understand.

**…...**

**A/N: Each chapter will be short. Anywhere from 300 to 1000 words (give or take). Samahl means laugh in elvish. I thought it fitting. Lol. **


	2. Banal'ras

**A/N: Back for a new chapter. Sorry for taking so long!**

**Collection Two: Banal'ras:**

…

The head housekeeper glared sharply down at him. "The laundry room, boy," the old woman barked, handing him a heavy pile of clothes. "And be quick about it. There's plenty more to do."

"Yes, Mistress," Samahl mumbled. He turned to walk out the door before the woman could grouch at him about something else. His pace quickened when he heard her muttering to herself about lazy children.

That woman was a force to be reckoned with, he had learned, but she was his favorite. Her sharp comments and snappy demeanor motivated Samahl and kept him on his toes. The harder he worked, the less time he had to think about his father. It had been three years since he had passed. Not a day went by that Samahl didn't think of him.

Or the strange way in which he died.

It haunted his waking hours and plagued his dreams. His only escape was hard work and so every day Samahl took on as many chores as he could. He got up early and went to bed late. His mother was worse and it tore him up to see her. Dark circles framed her once beautiful amber eyes and her voice shook whenever she spoke of his father. He hated to see her this way and he had tried everything in his power to be as helpful and respectful as he could.

He hoped it was enough.

When Samahl reached the laundry room the servants there greeted him with a cheerful hello.

"Always a good lad, Samahl. I hope Mistress Tanna didn't give you much trouble," Belnara said as she took the pile of clothes from him.

"No more than usual, miss," he replied.

Belnara was several years older than him but she treated him as if he was her age. She always greeted him a smile and occasionally snuck him treats from the kitchen when she could.

"That's good then," she said, nodding at him. "You better go now before she comes howling down the corridors."

Samahl laughed. "She's not all that bad," he commented.

Belnara huffed, rolling her eyes. "Yes, she is but she works as hard as the rest of us, if not harder, so there is that. Go on you, I'll bring you cookies later if I can," she said, smiling down at him.

He gave her a little wave before turning on his heel and heading back to Master Enansal's wing where he had left Mistress Tanna.

As he walked near the garden's entrance, he turned on to the stone pathway for a quick detour. His steps were light and he hardly made a sound. He glanced around in wonder as he did every time he came here. Lush greenery and rare exotic plants filled the spaces. Beautiful crystal spires twined around branches. Vines twirled and hung from tree limbs bearing blooming vibrant flowers. The smell was intoxicating and he understood why his mother found peace here.

His mother was the head gardener and a dedicated botanist. Her joy, she told him often, was to see how they grew. How they worked and what they did. She taught him the names of plants and what they could be used for. It was the one of fews things that still brought her joy since his father died.

As he strolled down the walkway he could hear his mother speaking to someone. As he drew closer, he stopped to listen so he didn't interrupt.

"...and I am glad to see you. It's been a year or so, yes? You look as beautiful as I remember."

The voice was familiar and he crept a little closer to see if he was correct. He saw the Master's son, Banal'ras, speaking to his mother as she trimmed the plants. She looked up at Banal'ras and smiled but even from this distance Samahl could tell it did not reach her eyes.

Banal'ras was a powerful mage and spent most of his time in Arlathan, researching. Each time he returned for a visit, he seemed more closed off and reclusive.

Except when he spoke to Samahl's mother.

"Thank you, Master Banal'ras, it is good to see you, as well. How have your studies been?" his mother asked as she tended the plants. His mother held herself with such grace as she spoke. Each word pronounced with clarity. It was always impressive to watch. Samahl hoped someday he would be able to interact with nobility the way his mother could.

Banal'ras sat down at the bench nearby, tucking a stray lock of his golden hair behind an ear. Samahl caught a flash of a bandage wrapped around his palm before the man's hand disappeared back into his long sleeve. "Fascinating, truth be told. I have met many who Dream as I do in Arlathan. They teach me things I've never heard of before. Things I wasn't even aware were possible. It is…" He stopped for a moment to glance down at her before blushing, "My apologies. Here I am carrying on about myself. How is the garden faring? It is more splendid than I last recall. Your touch is in every plant and flower, I can see."

"Only because I tend it everyday as much as I can. I am pleased you've noticed though," she replied.

It amazed Samahl the way his mother could answer in politeness and feign interest in a conversation she did not wish to have. Samahl was sure that Banal'ras' attention made his mother uncomfortable. He observed Banal'ras making small talk with his mother often enough to tell his mother was always on guard. Yet she always indulged him when he visited out of respect.

"It is hard not to," he answered, glancing at her and lingering for a moment before looking away again, "And the boy? How is he?" he asked.

Here his mother looked up and beamed. "He's wonderful. Growing like a weed, and so very helpful. Always picking up more chores and helping where he can. I see more and more of his father in him everyday. He is a true blessing," she praised.

Samahl smiled, happy to see that his efforts to be good to his mother have been paying off. His mother's face lit up in a way he rarely saw these days. It was a relief to see it. He let out a silent thanks to the Goddess, Mythal.

So focused was he on seeing the joy on his mother's face, he had almost forgotten about Banal'ras. His mother had gone back to pruning the flowers but Samahl observed the man on the bench. He watched as a scowl crossed his face and his hands tightened into fists. Rage seemed to flow across the man's expression before he shook his head.

Slowly the man stood and bid his mother good day. He walked in the opposite direction from where Samahl stood. He felt grateful for that as he did not want to talk to the man if he could help it. Quietly he continued on his way to his mother.

Samahl tried to shake the feeling that Banal'ras did not seem to care for him. He worried what that mean for his mother.

And what it may mean for him.

**...**

**A/N: Banal'ras means shadow in elven if anyone was curious. **


End file.
